Horn of Plenty
by daydreamer777
Summary: Annalisa Falafelaf was once a high-class Capitol girl. That was before the rebellion. Now she is chosen for the 76th Hunger games, involving Capitol children. She knows she has no chance, but what happens when a group of Capitol rebels offer her help in return for helping them... with a dangerous job. (read for full description) SPOILERS FOR MOCKINGJAY
1. Prologue

_AN: Hi! First of all, in the actual story, Katniss killed Coin and the games with the Capitol children were called off, I believe. **In this version,** Katniss never killed Coin, and was never sent to live in District 12 forever (although she was always wary of Coin). Just to get the backstory straight. Also, just to warn you, it's been a while since I finished Mockinjay so please don't be too hard on me if I miss something out. And finally, I realize Panem's like future America, and I am British, so if I get the dialect wrong sometimes that's why._

_Full summery: Annalisa Falalefa was once lived in a mansion, with all the Jarachoka jackets a girl could wish for. That was before the rebellion. Now she lives in a three room tenement in a building full of other refugees. As if it can't get any worse, being the daughter of the Capitol's defense strategist means she is chosen for the 76th Hunger games, involving the children of the Capitol's most powerful. The nastiest thing she's ever done was kill a spider by throwing a boot at it (and for that she had to stomach up quite a lot of strength), so she knows the odds aren't in her favor. Luckily, or unluckily, however way you view it, a group of Capitolist rebels (trying to bring back the old Panem) offer to help her. But in return she has to help them. _

_Anyways, on with the story!_

_O horn of plenty, a horn of plenty for us all.__  
__And when you raise the cry,__  
__the brave shall heed the call__  
__and we_ _shall never falter. __  
__One horn of plenty for us all._

For the first time in my life, it felt like every part of my body was working. My heart was thudding so violently I was scared it would burst out. I was breathing so fast, faster than I had in all those horrible P.E sessions back in school, and my head was spinning with more thoughts than I knew were possible. What was happening – how was this happening? Where were we going? Where was everyone? Although my head was exploding from all these concerns, I still found myself unable to do anything, except stand there and stare out the window.

"Annalisa, hurry!" Mother shouted from the hall, "We don't have all day!"

"I'm coming!" I reply, not moving from the place beside the windowsill, " I just need to pack a few things!"

"Well, speed it up! I was hoping to leave at, I don't know, some point this year, at least!"

I roll my eyes at this failed attempt at sarcasm. Although, I suppose I'd better start _moving. _So far my suitcase is only packed with my make-up bags, some old teddies, and only a few clothes. Well, when I say a few I mean, 14 pairs of pants, 9 skirts, all four of my Ferragaya dresses, and my most prized Jarachoka jacket. And all that doesn't even make up a quarter of my wardrobe. I can't believe I can't take all of them. With little time left, I try to squeeze in some more Brazari cardigans, but I'm already practically bouncing on my suitcase to get it to close as it is.

I hear Avery rushing down the stairs.

"Coming Mother! Sorry I had to keep you waiting, it's just you said I could only take one pair of sneakers, and I had a hard time deciding which..."

"It doesn't matter, my dear, just hurry!"

The only free space I really have at the moment are my pockets, and they can't really carry much. I'm wearing my old rainmac that Uncle Louis gave me for my birthday a while ago. It's ugly as hell, but at the moment we're in a massive rainstorm.

As I leave my room, I notice something else. I have two bottles of nail polish, blue and pink sparkes, sitting lonely on the shelf. I had totally forgotten about nail polish! Stupid, stupid! How could I forget my nail polish?

"Annalisa!"

I know I only have a few moments until Mother goes all dragon-mode, so I quickly shove the bottles in my smallish pockets and leave my bedroom for probably the last time.

_O horn of plenty, a horn of plenty for us all.__  
__And when you raise the cry,__  
__the brave shall heed the call__  
__and we_ _shall never falter. __  
__One horn of plenty for us all._

I race down the stairs to find my Mother, looking agitated, and my sister and brother beside her looking confused.

"It's about time. We're late!"

"But Maurice hasn't arrived here yet, so actually, we're early." Says Avery.

"No, Maurice said he'd be here at 7.00. It is now 7.09. Your father's not even home! This is a disaster!"

"Mother, don't worry!" Avery says, trying to her. "The talk is the rebels have taken only the city center so far, and we're all the way in the suburbs. We'll be fine!"

"I still don't understand." Says Arlene, "Why are we leaving?"

Mother facepalms yet again.

"Sweetie, you need to keep up with the news more!" This was rich coming from my mother, who lived on reality tv shows about women who fell in love with inanimate objects. The districts are rebelling against us! They plan to brutally rob, kill and rape all of us, so it's vital we leave Panem now!"

"Where are Sassafras and Mint?" Arlene asked. Arlene got quite annoying when she asked questions.

Sassafras and Mint were our cousins. Their Mother had died a while ago due to an unfortunate Botox accident, and their father was busy at work most of the time, so they stayed with us a lot. They didn't exactly live with us, but we were pretty close. I'm just saying, if someone had said to me a year ago we would someday we'll have to evacuate Panem one night, I'd have thought they'd be coming too.

"We've been over this so many times, Arlene! They're going to meet their father at work. He wants to see they're okay, and since that man is _so _unreliable, we have to leave without him. Goodness, I've done so much for those kids over the years, I think he should take responsibility now, at least."

Again, another collection of interesting comments to come from mother. Our nanny, Bianca, had done most of the caring for the five of us. And there were also the maids, the housekeeper, and the butler.

The doorbell rings.

Mother rushes to it.

"Pedronym?" she asks as she opens the door with a hopeful joy. It wasn't our father. It was second-best, Maurice the cab driver.

"Maurice! Finally! We're packed and ready. Pedronym's a little late, I'm afraid, but luckily he gave me the directions. We drive out the border into the desert-"

"So, Pedronym's not here?" asked Maurice, looking distressed.

"No." Mother muttered, worried. "Why?"

"I heard the rebels have already taken the Government building. It's just… if Pedronym isn't here… then…" He can tell by the look of horror on Mama's face that this may not be the best time to bring up the topic.

"Never mind. We'll have to go without him. He'll catch up somehow. Us Capitol people know our way round. Get your stuff. Most of the roads have been blocked off, that's why I was so late."

I knew Maurice would forever be his punctual self.

"But…. What about Daddy?" Arlene doesn't budge, so Avery has to be big brotherly and push her along and carry her bag for her. Avery's not very physically strong, so four bags proves a challenge for him.

_O horn of plenty, a horn of plenty for us all.__  
__And when you raise the cry,__  
__the brave shall heed the call__  
__and we_ _shall never falter. __  
__One horn of plenty for us all_.

Maurice used to drive us around a lot, when none of our cars were working. Since now gas had slowly become a rarity for us in the Capitol, we're relying on Maurice (I don't know where he get _his _gas from and frankly I don't want to know).

The car is smaller than I remembered. Now I think of it, maybe that's probably because of our 14 suitcases.

We reach the motorway to the border. Unfortunately, it looks like every living thing in the Capitol had the same idea, as the traffic is worse than I've ever seen (and trust me, I've witnessed the struggle of looking for a parking spot on 50% off day at the mall).

"Can't you go another direction?"

"It doesn't work like that, Lettuce."

Suddenly, an explosion rings. It has to be a while away, but it still makes us jump out of our skins.

"Maurice, drive out." Mother's emotionless face, which had once been so gallantly protected by Botox, looked stricken with fear.

"I'm not dying here."

Another explosion.

People are trying to drive their cars around, but the traffic keeps them trapped like rats.

"We might have to run." Maurice warns. "I don't think I can drive out this way."

"Nonsense! You can do it," Mother implores, "Just drive over them, we desperate now. Besides, to you expect me to run in these shoes?"

Mother was referring to her prized 8in. heels, obviously too big to fit in a bag, so she wore them.

Arlene put down her chocolate bar that she had smuggled in her sleeve.

"Mother? Did you say something about running?" she asks, with an undertone of terror in her voice.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. We're walking!"

"Fine. Maurice, at least drive us to a mud-free terrain, please!" I look out the window to see the ground, filthy with mud. The avoxes would work on keeping outer-city roads clean, and since they're gone, I guess no one's around to do it for them.

Mama thinks aloud, "So, we're stuck here, with a dim prospect of escape, all roads blocked off, all possibilities of salvation destroyed…."

"Don't worry, ma'am, something will happen. We'll be fine." Says Maurice, starting to open the door.

And something does happen indeed. But before _anything else_ can happen, another explosion blows our ride up into pieces.

I'm flung a few yards away, narrowly missing a hedge with shards of glass stuff in my legs.

_Oh Capitol. __  
__Your glorious diamond shine. __  
__A tribute to the darkest days behind.__  
__One horn of plenty for us all._


	2. Chapter 1

I continued painting my nails, trying not to pay attention to the brute beside me that was called my sister.

"Careful, Arlene. I only have two bottles left!" I stare at her, with a deep pain in my heart, as she practically pours half the bottle onto her calloused fingertips. It's truly agonizing to watch.

"I need to put more on! I'm sorry, but I keep smudging it!" Arlene defended, fiercely rubbing the polish off her fingertips, ruining what was probably her eleventh coat. Being her notoriously clumsy self, she knocked a bottle over, and spilling glittery pink nail varnish all over the table.

So the only color I had left was pale blue. Brilliant. My favorite. Not.

"No look what you've done!" I exclaim, rushing to pick up the cracked bottle.

"You idiot! I only have one left!" I attempt to flick her on the forehead. I'm not very good at this (mother said ladies never hit) so instead I end up lightly poking her on her cheek.

"OW!" she yelped, and in return punched me in the throat. For a small girl, she really does have a lot of force. I lay on the ground, gasping for air.

"I could have died just then!" I scream at her. "Don't ever punch me again!"

As I regained my strength, she shrugged and walked out of our tenement.

"Mother, I'm going to find some sane people to talk to." Before mother's indignant statement could be released, she added,"I promise to be home by curfew!"

I was left alone, on the brink of tears.

That glittery pink nail varnish was all I had. Well, yes, I had the pale blue, but that didn't count. No one likes pale blue. I no longer owned glitter, precious glitter, the last lonely shine left in the shabby room that Arlene and I shared. And now the floor was stained! Am I allowed _one_ good thing in my life?

We used to live in a mansion, me, my parents my brother Avery and my stupid little sis Arlene. It had five floors and almost as rooms than my school! Well, almost. Our dining room was a little tidily, if you get what I mean. And maybe the avox's quarters did cut it a bit, size wise. But it was big, though, big enough for me and Arlene to live together in peace. But was it too big? I remember complaining that our front yard was too big. It was like a half a mile walk from the front door to the mailbox. I hated the fact that my room smelled of oranges. Now we live here, I realize how stupid those complaints were. It's a bit late now, though.

The rebellion stole everything. I used to be rich, fabulous, and well fed. My name is Anneliese Falafelaf. My father was in charge of the defense of the Capitol, my home. I went to 'Lovely Lorbin's Preparatory College for Greater Besgove', and I hated it. I loved pink sparkles.

None of that helps me now.

Now I live in a three-room tenement near the refugee camps. I live in rags that are growing too small. My school has been closed down for a month. Well, I guess that last one wasn't too bad. The districts hate us, hates me. My father is dead. My cousins are missing. I have a scar on my thigh that still hurts. All this is thanks to the Mockingjay.

I hear the bang of the front door, which told me my brother, Avery, is home. There aren't many jobs going around these days, as most of the big time jobs are going to people from the districts, as Panem is united (mother says this is a mistake of epic proportions as they can't do their jobs right) and little is left for us. My mother ran to greet him, but I'm not in the mood for talking today. I could still listen to their conversation, though. Not being involved is better, in my opinion.

"Did you find any work today, love?" she chimes, presenting him with a scone. Mother still loves scones. I can't blame her, though, scones are delicious. Having also become somewhat of a rarity, she's been paying extra for them off the black market. Just shows what lengths people would go to for a scone.

"Yes, in fact! They're looking for people to help clear up the old bombsites. I suppose that doesn't require too much effort."

"I wouldn't be so sure, my dear. Remember your Great Uncle Bertram? Worked four days as a plumber and his hands turned into clubs, I tell you!" She curled her hands into a claw. I rolled my eyes.

So did Avery. Noticing his annoyance, she replied with, "Just be carful, okay. Our people are not made for hard work."

After several minutes of silence, Avery speaks up again.

"There's more news. That Anneliese and Arlene need to know."

Mother recognized the serious tone in Avery's voice.

"What is it? They're not going to have to do manual labor too, are they?!" her voice increased to a high pitched whisper, as it usually did when she was worried. In a small spaz-attack, she fanned at her face with her long, chipped, lilac nails.

"Mother, you can't panic here, okay? It's only a rumor so far. But…" he draws in closer.

"There's been word that there will be another hunger games…."

"Really? So all that bother and the districts forgot to call of the Hunger Games? There, I tell you, that's the reason we're supposed to be in charge…" She knows what he means.

To stop her looking even more like a pretentious idiot, Avery doesn't let her finish.

"… a Hunger Game with children of the Capitol. Particularly children of the most powerful. Like father. The girls are in danger."

For the first time in her life mother is speechless.

A tear that has been plotting it's escape for too long slips out of my eye. My breathing becomes heavy, and my heart thuds so loudly I wonder if the neighbors can hear it. Actually, the walls are so ridiculously thin they probably can. I'm freaking out even more than I did on that night_…_.

My life _can _in fact get worse. I may end up in the Hunger Games. _Children of the most powerful. _Father controlled the entire Capitol's forces. He was without a doubt one of the most powerful men in Panem.

I couldn't be chosen. So many horrible things have happened in the past two months, we've all lost so much. I can't go to the Hunger Games; my life is already in enough ruin.

Why do the districts still hate us so much? Haven't we suffered enough?

xxx

Even if your world crumbles, as long as you have friends around it's not too bad. That's what Emme Smits says. I don't know if I agree with her 100% on that one, but she has proven to be a good acquaintance.

The Smits live across the hall from us. Emme, Henri, and their son Joshua. I've never met Henri, though, as he got a labor job somewhere in the districts and has to work out there. He sends the money each couple of weeks in an envelope with a flower stuck to it, a different color each time. Emme gets really excited. Recently there's been no flower, and Emme isn't smiling as much. I'm not a stalker, it's just you get to know people when they live five feet away from you.

We share our food rations with her sometimes. Have dinner together once or twice a week. It's quite fun.

Although today, with the combination of flowerless envelopes and Arlene and I's inevitable death sentences, I'm not expectiong a particularly high mood.

Emme answers the door.

"Lettuce! How nice! Come in, please!"

Emme has the weirdest smile ever. She like curls her lips inward as she speaks. Mother says she's probably embarrassed abut not being able to wear lipstick any more.

Emme welcomes us into her even smaller apartment, which she's clearly been making a effort to brighten up, I must say. There are fake flowers dotted about and some amateur abstract painting on the wall. How nice.

Joshua toddles over towards us. I'm rather awkward with young children (or any sort of children for the matter) but that doesn't I don't find little Josh unnaturally adorable. As he topples over he stops himself by grabbing onto Arlene's leg

She's even made little placemats for the table! This is what you call extreme interior decoration.

"How have you been, Emme?" says mother, politely, as Emme pours us some hot water from the kettle.

"Lovely, thanks! Josh's really got the hang of walking now! Got quite a few bruises."

Joshua climbs up onto the chair. Emme has placed a thick book (one that nobody can be bothered to read) to he can actually see over the table.

A thought hits me. Josh won't have to compete in the games, will he? No, it's only 10 and over… I think. I knew I should have paid more attention when it was on. Apart from voting in the polls of the Hunger Games official website's _Most likely to win, _me and my friends never really thought about it that much. Watching all that gore isn't good for digestion, as my grandmother used to say.

"Emme!" I exclaimed, interrupting her and, mother's conversation about the new genetically modified domestic purple kangaroos.

"Yes, Anna?"

"What have you heard about the 76th hunger games?"

Mother draws her hands up to her face.

"Annalisa, we've discussed this. Not an appropriate topic for the table! Now, Emme, you wouldn't want that, with them bouncing everywhere-"

"Um... only the usual, you know, rumors…" she answers my question with a clear voice but doesn't seem to know what she's talking about.

"You can't trust the things you hear off the streets!" she starts laughing. Here's Emme's nervous laughter again. But her wonky smile descends into a wonky frown.

An awkward supper of watery pasta is served. There's no dessert this time.

Avery is most displeased.

"But… I thought Mr. Smits was sending you more sugar coupons!" he says in a childish tone.

"Yes… he's saving up a few to send later." She answers, "But none tonight, I'm afraid."

"Wait, I think I have some scones left in my cabinets… Anna, be a dear and get them for me will you?" mother asks.

"What did your last slave die of?" I mutter as I head back to our flat.

There's a sticky note on our door.

"_Anna – emergency meeting bombsite G6. Knocked but no one home. Not like you to miss a meal? – LW."_

An escape from my dreary existence! A meeting with the club! A while ago, me and my friend Lia Wigly started an undercover organization arranged for one sole purpose – the become the saviors of humanity (we really just met at random bombsites a discussed shoes but that other description sounded so much cooler)!

Mother's scones had to wait until another day to be gorged, I'm off on a mission!

xxx

I walked up to bombsite H3, got lost wandered round fir a bit, and eventually found bombsite G6. Somebody had started a fire, which was nice. I only had my blue pencil skirt and the winter breeze was becoming chilly.

"Annalisa Falalelaf! Better late than never!" Lola Durburk loudly exclaims.

"Yeah, alright, I'm late, well spotted! If anyone asks I was just-"

"Nobody cares about your evening plans, okay?" the bitch known as Hathor Kit shared her wisdom. "we have more important stuff to talk about."

Originally my and Lia were the founding members, but recently I've noticed Lia is letting Hathor hold the reins for longer than she should.

"News has spread that there will be another Hunger Games. Now, all we've heard so far are only rumors, but to be certain, we have Nicky here to explain. Nicky!"

Nicky Armitage, a skinny boy around 12, stands up.

"My dad was caught sneaking into their buliding and was arrested while the victors were making their vote. He said he heard it through the grape vine that they had decided on a yes. And since President Snow's death, most chances are it'll happen."

No one speaks.

Hathor finally pipes up. "So as you see, we need a plan. Maybe someone who's willing to tribute for any of us? So – any volunteers?"

Everyone stares at her.

"Are you serious?" -

-"You want us to risk our lives for you?!-"

-"Why don't you do it?" asks Lola.

Hathor's facial expression goes into shock. "Because. _Obviously_, I am the club leader!"

My blood boils.

"Anna could do it! She is after all, trauma consultant!" adds in Lia.

_What?!_

"What do you mean I'm _trauma consultant_? When did we decide this?!"

"Hathor and I gave you all jobs. You're the trauma consultant, you help us though rough times. Miko, you're the creative entity – you make –"

"No – I'M CO-FOUNDER!"

"Not anymore, I'm afraid." Says Hathor.

Lia tries to find the right words. "Me and Hathor decided you haven't been making enough contribution to the team recently. I mean, skipping out on important meetings to go to your fancy dinner parties-"

"WHEN WAS THIS DECIEDED?" I scream.

"At the confidential creator meetings! Duh!"

"I AM A CREATOR! WHY WASN'T I THERE?"

"Falaleaf… is that your name? I think you should leave." Hathor says arrogantly.

"FINE! I HOPE ALL OF YOU GET CHOSEN AND DIE!"

Bastards. That's the last time I'm going to that club. What's called a 'club' these days anyway? Six-year-olds meet in secret clubs!

"_Even if your world crumbles, as long as you have friends around it's not too bad."_

Yeah right. That's the last time I'm taking advice from a girl who cries over flowers!

**Thanks for reading! Please review!**


	3. Chapter 2

**Hi! Wow, I never thought I'd make it to three chapters...**

**Disclaimer: Um, I don't own anything, don't sue me, I'm a poor person!**

A week later the rumors had blazed through the tenements, and everybody was scared to death.

Avery had started working to turn the bombsites into a parking lot, Arlene spent her last money on some sparkly purple nail polish to make me feel better (it's not the same), mother cleaned (that's a first, believe me), and we heard more rumors.

Mother had made a new friend – I think somewhere on the search for cheaper scones – who had a TV. She said the rebels were going to make a proper announcement sometime. They used to film 'propos' or something during the rebellion, and they were planning to carry on with these things, to present to people a slightly realistic picture of what the hell was happening. Until things cleared up of course. Normally, I wouldn't care, but after Avery shared his news, I need to know. About the next Hunger Games.

I wasn't meeting with my secret club anymore, I was above them. To be honest, I always thought Lia was a little sketchy.

Lola talked to me a bit. However, I felt that we don't really have much to talk about any more. Lola was like my second-best friend, my back-up friend, whom I acquainted with just in case a situation like this may arise. Even though, the only topics I'm good at discussing is stuff like fashion, or how much I hate maths. We lost so much of our once-extensive wardrobe, complaining about the clothes we have is unthinkable. I guess we can still talk about our presumably mutual loathing of numbers, but with school and homework it just isn't the same.

Anyway, me, mother, Avery and Arlene were on our way downstairs when we ran into Lola Durburk.

"Hi!" I must admit, her vice was annoyingly high-pitched.

"Hello, Lola!" I answered, politely. "Where are you of to on this fine evening?"

"My cousin has a friend who lives a couple floors down who has a tv! We're going to see the announcement!"

Odd. Well, the more the merrier I guess.

We arrive at apartment 3H to only to be indoctrinated into an ocean full of people. Again, everyone else seemed to have the same idea. We, as a family, need to start thinking more original ideas.

"Move, move move! Out of the way! Ouch, Hatele, that's my foot you just stepped on!" A woman with a large silver wig on and very high heels came hobbling towards us.

"Why, Lettuce Falafelaf! How are you this evening?" she says, kissing mother on both cheeks.

"Fine, Tillie, I-"

"That'll be five coins, if you'd be so kind." She blinked her long eyelashes at mother's vacant expression.

"What?"

"I'm sharing my television with half the block, I might as well take the opportunity to make some cash, so – three coins please!"

"Alright!" whined mother, "You don't have to be so pushy about it!" she gave the five shiny coins to Tillie.

I noticed Lola's still tagging along with us. Did she just cost us an extra coin? Evil, evil…

"Well, Mrs. Praige's certainly raking it in, huh?" she says.

I really hate it when people add 'huh' at the end of a sentence.

"Yeah. She'll have enough to buy the blocks twice after tonight-"

Wait, who?

"Mrs. Praige? As in Maximus Praige's mother?"

She reacts as if this is an unexplainably stupid question. Oh well, it probably is.

"Of course. How many Praiges do you know?"

"I suppose you're right. Have you heard anything from Maximus?"

"No, you know I didn't know him very well. And if I remember rightly, neither did you."

Honestly, can a girl dream?

"But, I didn't know that they'd made it out? I haven't seen Maximus around."

"I think he went left Panem with his grandparents. Apparently when Mrs. Praige gets woozy she says she'll be going to join him soon. Although…" she lowers her voice.

"Everybody who isn't currently living here has 'left Panem'. My mama says her stylist, who was quite a nice guy actually, has 'left Panem', even though I know for a fact he lived in the Mentropoli region, and that placed got air-bombed.

What a bright subject.

Before I can generate a sarcastic reply, Mrs. Praige's voice rings out

"Everyone!" Mrs. Praige was now standing on top of the table., banging her high-heel against the surface.

"The announcement will begin soon, so get in plaaaccee!" high heels are clearly not good climbing material, I thought, as she tumbled down to the ground.

A crowd gathers around the tv. It's hard to even see anything.

Mrs. Praige, as batty as she may be, did have a good idea, though.

I climb onto the kitchen counter. Lola tries to do the same thing, so I quickly get in the position for the best view.

The TV blips twice, and then it's on.

The well-known face of Caesar Flickerman appears.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen! Tonight, we cover various news stories from across Panem. A new water pump system has been implanted in District 3, giving residents easy access to water, but, is it clean? Stay tuned to learn more about these claims. A member of a Capitol rebellion group was captured trying to break into the justice building in District 1 last night, more on that later. Katniss Everdeen has yet to make a appearance after the execution of President Snow, despite pressure from the public. And tonight, exclusively, President Coin has will make her long-awaited statement about the rumored 76th Hunger Games."

Gosh, the news is so incredibly dull these days. I miss _Fashion Police._ It appears most the audience here agreed with me. For the next hour or so everybody just yapped among themselves. Finally, a certain Alma Coin shows up on screen.

Some more blush wouldn't hurt. And she could do with some eyeshadow to contrast with her silver hair. And maybe a little –

Okay, I'm getting off-topic. Come on, Anna, concentrate on what she's saying.

"A few weeks ago the victors and I met in a private meeting to decide what to do. The proposal was, that to avoid further tensions with the old Capitol, a new Hunger Games solely involving Capitol children would be introduced. I am here to announce their decision. Three of the victors voted against the proposal, however four voted yes, meaning that, indeed, there will be another Hunger Games, the Official 76th, to be exact. The reaping will be held as soon as possible. Remember, citizens, the main purpose of this is to truly remove the still-active resentment between Capitol citizens, and the people of the Districts. Only once we all become aware of each other's suffering, we may face the prospect of a peaceful Panem. Goodnight."

Caesar is back on with some unnecessary news story. The whole room was quiet, everyone had a complete lack of words to spew. And for Capitol people, that was weird.

Suddenly some old guy spoke up from somewhere in this small crowd.

"Once we all become aware of each other's suffering? Rubbish!"

"Sit down, Yarnie, before you have another stroke-" said a woman close to him.

"Yeah, don't worry, old man," somebody else added, "We invented the Hunger Games – we're covered!"

I guess that's right. We have a chance. Right?

xxx

Nothing really felt like it had changed in the next two weeks. Avery continued his quarrying work dutifully, with no less than the maximum amount of complaining. Arlene moped around the blocks, not really accomplishing anything, as usual. Mother traded my hoodie for more scones. Emme stopped getting letters all together. Lia and Hathor continued the secret club meetings. Since Lola still went to them, I figured it was rather awkward for us to remain friends. So really we were all making a fruitless attempt to continue with what had become our everyday lives.

Although, there were some people, just the odd few, who were a bit more hesitant to the idea of the 76th Hunger Games. They had to send in peacekeepers. The peacekeepers used to come from the Capitol. I didn't really think about them much, as the Capitol was pretty crime-free. Apparently they used 'take advantage of their powers' or something or other, and just generally be really mean, but they're trying to change that now. They say the peacekeepers can have families, and get higher salaries, but they still act like douches. To make it worse, most of our peacekeepers were killed off in the rebellion, so the new ones are all from the districts. And they really don't like us very much.

A flyer was posted one day, on some random post near block 4. stating that a reaping would be held within the next week, and set everyone down, for the rumors had finally been confirmed.

But some people carried on to say it was all just a myth made by the districts to scare us.

The day of the reaping drew closer like a snake enclosing its prey. At home we never talked about it. It's constantly on our minds every minute of every day so there's no point in discussing it at all.

The night before the reaping, I went to spy on the secret club's meeting. They were conversing over what would be the best style choices. We didn't have much, but Hathor has actually managed to generate a good list of options. I kind of wish I had taken notes.

I didn't even feel fully-conscious on the day of the reaping. I don't think I'm very good at dealing with intense situations.

The reaping would be held at some abandoned concert stadium in the old city center. It felt really strange going back. A lot of district refugees had moved into the free space left in the Capitol and our people were, shall we put it, unwelcome.

Everyone in the blocks was walking downtown; all in the best finery they could manage. It was a weird sight, only because I had never seen so many of us _walking _before, no one really had cars or faster transportation and weren't great with long distances. Some people were starting lose their breath as we arrived.

Soon we reached the stadium. We all knew the drill, get blood samples taken (those _really_ hurt) separate into genders and ages and what not.

"Good morning everybody!" yelled a woman on the stage over a microphone.

"How are we all doing?"

"Meh!" was the general response.

"Great!" she responded, sarcastically. If I'm going to be expected to compete in these games, at least I want a cheerful announcer.

As she blathers on about atonement and what not, I scan the seat on the stage. A selection of victors whose names I can't remember sit side by side looking sullen. There's only one I know. Katniss Everdeen is on the far right looking very much as if she doesn't want to be here. A guy next to her is talking to her, but she doesn't seem fazed. Left empty and uninviting are the 24 chairs – left for us.

"Without further ado, let's get on with the reaping!" the announcer actually bears a smile for the first time.

I wince. I'm in trouble here. My father defiantly had a high rank in Capitol politics.

"Ladies first!" I glare at her.

"Jacqui Sanding!" Her name sounds familiar. A red headed girl of about sixteen walks up to the stage brimming with fake confidence.

"Mahogany Pedua!" Who?

"Candie Templesmith!" Wasn't she the daughter of the old announcer?

"Queygan Suydante!"

"Tessa BokNok!"

"Hanna Suydante!" it wouldn't be a complete hunger games without some sibling drama, would it?

I'm genuinely surprised by all the people I don't know. The more I think abut it, I remember father never told us much of what went on at his work.

"Lila Snow!" the whole crowd hushes. President's Snow's granddaughter.

"Moo Mondays!" What a strange name.

My heart is beating so fast. I'm legitimately worried for my health. My teeth have started to chatter. Don't say my name! Please! Or not Arlene, even worse!

"Annalisa Falafelaf!"

My legs walk up to the main stage on their own, since I had no control over what my body was doing anymore. My heart had stopped beating. I couldn't think straight.

"Anything you'd like to say?"

I stare at her, then the crowd, and take my seat on the stage.

"Now for the boys!" No matter how the announcer acts I still hate her. Or at least I think I do. _What's going on?_

"Laurie Lock!"

"Milo Boskins!" I think he went to my school. _Did he?_

"Phelan Miggs!" a small cheer comes from that corner of the stadium. I'm guessing he isn't very popular.

All 24 of us poor unfortunate souls are uncomfortably seated. Why were we doing this? I've never met any of these people, but some of the last names ring a bell. They had clearly already picked out the names beforehand. What's the point? So we could get 'the full experience' or something?

"Well, there they are the tributes of the 76th annual Hunger Games!"

A slow, confused applause starts.

I stare blankly back at them. Because I know this is the last time I will ever see my home. No, my home was destroyed a long time ago. Nonetheless, my death sentence has been approved. To survive, I'll need a miracle.

**So there's another rather depressing chapter! Next one coming soon!**

**If you favorite/follow/ review (good or bad) I will send you a private message with a picture of a dessert. Since this is the virtual world this is really the best I can do. (oh and you have to be logged of course)**

**Thanks!**


	4. Chapter 3

**A/N: So sorry this took so long! **

**excuse #1: I was sick last weekend**

**excuse #2: I wrote this chapter out and then accidentally deleted it **

**excuse #3: I wrote it out again but didn't like it so I redid it yet again**

**excuse #4: At the beginning of the Summer holidays I promised my mum I would finish my physics, geometry and French workbooks to prepare for the next school year but in reality I never started so I'm trying to finish them all in a week and a half**

**So there you go! **

**I don't own much, I'm a poor person, blah blab blah, Um, general idea belongs to Suzanne Collins, but I made up a few characters myself, blah, don't sue me, lalalalala, and so forth - **

I'm shaking, as I'm lead away from the stage. My brain still can't comprehend what's happening.

In a confused daze, I am lead away to a room. Soon we will be boarding the train. I don't even know where we'll be going, but I guess they still have to follow through with tradition.

The peacekeepers shove me in the empty room, stuck in a lingering state of dilapidation, and close the door. The least they could do is give me a decent room. There's a clock on the wall, that I wish wasn't there. The ticking is loud and fills the room, just pointing out how painfully quiet it is.

Finally, there's a knock at the door. I remember I'm supposed to get visitors. I hadn't really been thinking about why I was here. I hadn't really been thinking about anything.

Avery steps through the doorframe, and Arlene follows. Now I remember! I was supposed to get visitors.

"Anna! How are you?" Avery says, taking a second to look around this wreck of a room, slyly agreeing with me about what a mess it is.

"Oh, fine! Yourself?" Honestly, what a stupid question!

"You shouldn't be afraid, Anna, you'll be okay!" says Arlene, softly starting to blub.

I take a minute to silently deem my sister a complete and utter idiot. Yes, I, who doesn't know how to switch on a microwave let alone start a fire, get hungry if I don't eat at least once every twenty minutes, and possesses a weird phobia of slugs will 'be okay'.

"No it won't, Arlene! You know it. I'm finished! Done for! Just make it quick and say your goodbyes."

She bursts into tears.

"We're sorry. We'll miss you." Arlene gives me an ungraceful hug, in the process ensnaring me with her tears and mucus. It seems awkward and slightly standoffish, but at the same time I also think she may be trying to suffocate me. I hug her back. If I die now of oxygen loss at least that'll save me the time in the arena.

Avery doesn't say anything until it's time to leave. It's alright with me. I wasn't expecting them to go into an emotional frenzy. I don't quite know what I was expecting. I'm just confused, and I expect he is too. Although I was hoping for a slightly bigger reaction, at the bottom of my heart. I would never admit it out loud, but I'm slightly insulted.

There's a knock at the door.

"We'll be going now, Anna. Goodbye."

Avery has never properly said the word "goodbye" before. It was normally a half syllable "buh" at most. I'm touched. But I'm missing something.

"Where's mother?" they look surprised, as if they hadn't expected in their wildest dreams for this question to ever arise.

"She had to rescue the cat from a cherry tree." Explained Arlene between tearful gasps.

"What? We don't – what?" I give up with these people, honestly.

"She didn't-" Avery is cut off by Arlene's defiant whispering.

"She didn't want to come. Arlene didn't want to tell you that."

I feel like I'm obligated to come up with a reply, but I honestly can't think of anything to say. I can't even wave. Why didn't mother want to come? She knows as well as I do that she'll never she me again!

"She didn't say anything about it, if that makes you feel better." Says Avery, as though reading my mind.

"I don't know why."

"Okay. Goodbye." I reply with an undertone of "Just get out."

The peacekeepers lead them out and that's it. I feel empty, suddenly, as if I should be feeling different. Not happiness, not even confusion. I feel like I should be sad. I should be worried. But I'm not, I'm not empty, as finally my whole world has been destroyed.

I hear a loud shriek form the hallway.

"What do you mean there's no time left?!" That's Lia.

"Sir, please let us see out friend!" And Lola. Goodness, this will be awkward.

I hear mumbling, and more yells.

"Of course there's time left, I can't see anyone moving! When are the trains boarding?"

"Lia, keep your voice down. Let's go."

Disappointed footsteps, and more fatal silence.

A peacekeeper enters.

"That's your time up for visitors, I'm afraid, Falafelaf."

That was what? A grand total of about two minutes. I glare at him.

Normally I would reply with angry, sarcastic feedback but I don't feel the energy anymore. Glaring doesn't require much energy.

"But there is someone you need to meet before you leave."

"Somebody involved in the games?"

"Something like that."

I was about to say no more visitors, but the peacekeeper leads them in anyway.

A man with dark black hair, that looks like a tragically outgrown Mohawk enters alongside a skinny but not gaunt middle-aged woman and a boy with similar colored-hair but not quite as dire.

"Falafelaf? Annalisa Falafelaf, is it?" the man asks.

"Yes…" I'm trying to decide whether to be polite to them or not, as they look Capitol, but too well looked after.

The man notices the peacekeeper still waiting.

"Thank you, Gerret, you can go now."

The peacekeeper labeled as Gerret looks slightly disappointed at first, as if he felt as if he was missing out on action. But, always a good peacekeeper, he attends to his orders and exits. He closes the door firmly behind.

"Falafelaf, we come to speak to you about an important matter. But first, do you know who we are?" he definitely has the Capitol accent.

The woman sits down on the chair next to me.

"Not a clue." I answer, painfully but truthfully.

The woman stares back at him, with shock.

"My name is Edricin. I lead a group of Capitol rebels. These here are Rochelle Jouvier and Rob Wurt. What they do for me isn't important. You are. But first, you're probably wondering what our main purpose is. We believe in the old system, and we going to stop at nothing to get things back to how they should be."

"That sounds nice." I would like things to go back to the way they used to be.

"My point precisely. In order to do just that, I – we, need you." His face is rippled with seriousness.

Oh my god. Can this day be any more insane?

"What?" I ask, blankly.

Rochelle speaks up, unleashing her dark voice.

"Your father was head of defense strategies, was he not?"

I'm not really sure what his job was. Father always kept his work to himself. I never really questioned it.

"I suppose so, yes…"

Rochelle looks back at Edricin, looking only a little more relieved.

"Good. We had a look at the other tributes, but none of their parents worked in such high-profile jobs. Your father may been unlucky, but he was an intelligent man. We were hoping you've inherited some of his skills?"

I nod.

"Did he teach you how to make complex strategies? To trick you're way out of situations? How to assassinate somebody unwanted?"

I have no idea where any of this is going. It's just making me more depressed, etching into my mind the fact that my father is gone and just how little I knew of him.

Before I could clearly tell him that I have difficulty with light switches sometimes he continues in his broken voice.

"If you are anything like him, we need you. You're on the inside now, even better. We can help you, if you help us."

Hm. Frankly, I need all the help I can get.

"Help?"

"Guaranteed sponsoring. Extra training. You will win – _we will make sure of it_. But all we ask is one job."

I will win?

"What kind of job?" I ask, meekly. I quickly regret asking it in such a way. These guys seem to be looking for somebody brave, not all adrift and shaky like me.

"Have you ever heard of a woman named Katniss Everdeen?"

"Everyone knows who she is. Ever since the rebellion she's been all over the place."

"We need you to kill her."

"What?" the snappy part of me awoke with a start.

"Why can't you do it?"

"We're… um… exiled."

"Then how the hell are you here?"

"I know people. Like Gerret. Can help get the leaders through the border for a short time, but we can't stay forever. We have agents working over here, but none of them can get high enough positions to get to … _her_. As a tribute, you'll probably have full access.

That was very straightforward. If the secret club was ever trying to assassinate anyone I don't think they'd be so brash about it. Although, under it's new government who knew?

Seriously what should I say? I obviously have the assassination skills of a carrot, but I really, _really_ want to win.

"Yes, actually, my father taught me everything there is to know about military and assassination and surviving and stabbing people and knowing if food is poisoned or not and tripping people as they come round doorways and-"

"Is that a yes?" Asks Rob, who hasn't said a single word yet, nimbly.

"Yes!" I answer, full of enthusiasm.

Rochelle stands up. With a cracked but more complete smile on her face.

"Perfect. I told you there was no reason to worry." She mutters, giving Edricin an affectionate pat on the shoulder.

Distant thumping sounds form the hallway.

"We have to go now. We'll see you soon." Edricin leads the rest of his team out of the room.

"Good luck." Says Rob, as the door closes behind them.

**A/N: I've edited the ending of this chapter a bit, so that's why it's been uploaded twice. That's all for now, I'm currently working on the next update and it will be up shortly! Please let me know what you think so far**


	5. Chapter 4

We're led to a train. It isn't that big in comparison to the trains they used back in the _real _hunger games, which is quite unfair if you ask me. I mean, there a more of us, so it would make sense for us to have a bigger train. Oh well, nothing makes sense to me anymore.

The train is horrible. The air-conditioning is on way too high and it's very noisy. The obnoxious drum of the engine overthrows my thoughts, and the occasional bump as we speed over the tracks. Since the old tracks had been bombed they never got round to properly rebuilding them. Have things gotten at all better in the last hour? I still feel as if I've been given a death sentence, but now it looks as if I at least have a chance. I can't even think straight. This is stupid. If I'm going to win, I have to be able to think. But I'm a Capitol girl, thinking isn't really my thing.

We arrive in a nice area. Of course, it could never compare to the old Capitol, my Capitol, but it's a lot nicer than where we're living now. Proper cement covers the ground, leading to marble steps that glide up to the tribute's building. There's even a small fountain. The other tributes leave the train to look for their escort, to try and find some vague answer on what the hell they're supposed to be doing, but I just stop and admire the fountain.

It's nothing special, just a circular pool with a small spout pathetically jetting water. I haven't seen a decent fountain in weeks. No settlement is complete without a grand fountain. Someone should have told the people who built our new housing that.

I'm surprised no one else it stopping to appreciate it. As I look around most people are just standing around confused or heading into the building with a team of angry looking district people. A woman with bright fair hair finds me.

"Are you Nima Salada?"

Who? "Erm.. no-"

"Wait, wait, sorry! You're Annalisa Falafelaf? Aren't you?" Her eyes try to shine. I can tell she's trying to be nice but is probably wondering why I'm staring so lovingly at a fountain.

"Yes, where-"

"I'm Jeanne, your escort, that's Jeanne Derquee!" I'm getting annoyed with her very quickly. I mean, I've _always _found certain people really irritating, but there's something about her in particular that makes me want to kill someone. Oh well. I'll save that for the arena.

"Hang on, what-"

"I'm from district 3. I've never been to the Capitol before. It's very nice."

Is it? I want to tell her about how perfect it _used to be_ with the parks with silver fountains that spurted melted chocolate once a year, about the dress shops, which ranged from color to material and almost took up half the city, about the cars and the jewels and the people, the happy people. But what's the use?

"Come on, let's go inside, I have to introduce you to the rest of the crew." She says, as we walk.

I wonder why she's here. I thought the districts hate us. How did they decide escorts? Was it like a reapings that they used to have? Or did they just want to do it, so they could see our suffering up close and personal?

We enter, and again the New Capitol proves itself to be astonishingly average. It's nothing special compared to what I've seen, but it is nice to arrive somewhere meant for the likes of human beings. The building, drab and grey, contains little more than a reception area, some kind of exotic plant (father always said no reception was complete without a plant) and an elevator. Jeanne and I get in the elevator; with us are a dark haired girl and her escort. I suppose I'll meet them later.

The elevator chimes "Floor 6" in a dreary monotone as we reach our destination.

"We'll be sharing the floor with another tribute." Jeanne informs. "I'm not sure who yet, though. They don't tell us much." Great.

"These are your mentors, Greta Hollow – she was a karate champion, and Marcus Grod, who – it's so secret I'm not allowed to tell you!"

Greta looks about 70, and seems to be incapable of smiling. Marcus just looks terrifying. Jeanne succeeds in giving me a murderous attitude once more in her description of him. Don't I have a right to know?

"And your head stylist – Tigris herself!" Tigris. I remember her name. I think she was a _proper_ stylist, back in the good hunger games, when I was really small. Famous or not, her appearance is very strange. Even by Capitol standards she was odd looking. Was I just getting used to seeing people in their bare forms? I used to read these old storybooks, some that had these big cats called tigers. I suppose that's what she's supposed to look like. Her face is stretched and is tattooed with black and gold stripes. I almost find her terrifying. Though her markings she looks old.

"It's nice to meet you all."

That's all I can muster for now. I hope they're impressed.

As I expected, there's not a massive reaction.

"It's been a tiring day. I want to get some rest, if that's allowed."

"Okay, but the opening ceremony will soon so-"

I don't honestly care about what Jeanne has to say.

My room is white, blank as a cell. I suppose that's what it is.

I really should be thinking about killing Katniss Everdeen, but that all sounds so exhausting…

xxx

When I wake up I forgot where I was for a minute. It feels strange waking up to an Arlene-free room. I don't miss Arlene or Avery at all. Is that bad? I feel like I should. Katniss Everdeen isn't my friend, but at least she loved her little sister, like she should.

It's quite early, especially by my standards, but I suppose that's because of my lazy evening.

They could really use some decoration in here.

Our rooms are all quite drab, really. The people in the districts really need some help when it comes to interior decorating, that's for sure. I wonder if everything's so desolate where they come from?

Jeanne is in her pyjamas furiously shuffling papers at the white dining table.

"Hello, Annalisa! Wow, you sure are up early."

"So are you."

"Yes, but I wasn't really expecting you to be up . Not for a few hours at least." she says with a heavy tone of surprise.

"You said the opening ceremony was tonight. I wanted to be ready." However, I'm not sure what will take me all day.

"Oh, I thought you forgot. I was hoping on sleeping a couple more hours after I finished this work, but I suppose I can do another early start. I'll send off the avoxes to deliver us breakfast immediately. I guess we've beaten the others to it."

As she presses a button on the table top as I sit down. The chairs a re tall and white and have a little cushioning. After weeks of uncomfortable excuses for chairs, I suppose it's nice.

The three avoxes obviously cannot speak, and Jeanne isn't desperate to tell me much about them. At the back of my mind, the only logical thought standing is that they must be Capitol. The man carrying the drinks is thin and awful at pouring. The girl carries the food, and appears to struggle with its weight. The other man just stands around them not really sure what to do. They're definitely from the Capitol.

"Thank you!" calls Jeanne. "No, we have to talk about things, Annalisa and I, so… go away!" she talks in a lighthearted way, but she still makes me hate her more and more.

We've been given a fruit juice and toast, with butter, jam and marmalade on the side. I well up with tears.

"Okay, so today's schedule is: breakfast, meeting with mentor, lunch, meeting with stylists, break, final preparations, and… wait, why are you crying?"

"Because it's wrong! The breakfast! It's toast! I get toast at home even _now,_ for god's sakes! Where's the luxury! The old tributes got it! It's unfair!"

Jeanne rolls her eyes dramatically.

"Oh, I'm so sorry." She answers, sarcastically. Then her face lights up. "Could I recommend a mixture? But the marmalade and jam on one piece! It would be an interesting experiment!"

I glare at her.

"What's my schedule for today?" I spit.

Her shine disintegrates, and her face is back to the solemn expression she makes when she actually has to do work instead of contriving stupid babble.

"It's a very busy day indeed."

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